


Fallen

by CascadianRain



Series: So Long to Devotion [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon Age Quest: Demands of the Qun (DAII), Duelling, F/M, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 12:10:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12557080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CascadianRain/pseuds/CascadianRain
Summary: 9:34 Dragon, autumnSebastian is forced to watch Hawke’s desperate fight with the Arishok, powerless to help her. As Meredith names Hawke Champion of Kirkwall, Sebastian comes to a staggering revelation.





	Fallen

**Author's Note:**

> This follows the game plot at the end of Act 2 and *should* be the only time the story overlaps ground we’ve all played before. This installment is being posted a little later than usual because I was bit reluctant to cover gameplay, and kept trying to find ways to shorten it so we can move on to much more fun years...

Hawke’s blood matched the scarlet carpet.

All summer, Sebastian had yearned to return to Hawke’s side, and now that she finally took him back, it felt like his heart was being clawed out of his chest over and over.

All because of Isabela.

There was a moment that set Hawke’s course to this duel. A moment he might’ve been able to shift and instead he did _nothing_.

\+ + +

Sebastian’s fingers plucked at the taut bowstring, itching to shoot something. Aveline, too, looked ready to pound her shield into a certain someone’s nose. Hawke stood stiff, her back to them, clutching a note as she read it over and over—or else was simply staring at it unseeing.

Isabela was gone.

The note crumpled in Hawke’s fist. She squeezed—then let out a long, unsteady breath and dropped it to the damp stones of Kirkwall’s docks. When she faced them, it was with a smile cracking at the edges.

“Guess I misjudged that one, too.”

Aveline stepped forward. “Hawke—”

“You said you needed help with guard business regarding the Arishok, right? I have a feeling our horned resident will want to know what Isabela’s been up to. Let’s not keep him waiting.”

Hawke breezed past them, back up the docks. Aveline shot a glance at Sebastian; trouble was brewing in her city and she wasn’t best pleased. But Sebastian was more concerned about Hawke. She’d finally turned up at the Chantry a few days after he left the note on her desk. _If there is anything that you require of me, you have only to name it._ All she said was, “I need you by my side,” and it was more than enough for Sebastian.

She was different since the last time he’d fought beside her. Defiance drove her, a raw pain and anger fueled her. She threw herself into battle with a reckless abandon. And now she was striding straight for the most fearsome opponent in Kirkwall.

It may yet end peaceably, the Maker willing. He fell in step behind her, praying under his breath.

\+ + +

Fatigue had set in. It was in Hawke’s slowed reactions, in the extra push it took to throw a spell.

The Arishok lowered his head and charged. Hawke pivoted to dive out of the way, but not fast enough. He slammed into her and sent her flying. She hit the wall with a cracking of bones that Sebastian felt as if they were his own ribs breaking.

Hawke hit the carpet and lay still.

_And his heart wavered. For though Andraste did not cry out_

_Yet did he see her suffering._

She still drew breath. Sebastian saw the slight rise in her shoulders. Orange hair fell across her bloodied face.

“Hawke!” The scream ripped from his throat.

Her eyes shot open.

Rules of the duel be thrown to the void. Sebastian would fight every last Qunari in the Keep to save Hawke’s life. To save the only person who mattered—

He’d been too slow before. He widened his stance, relaxed the grip on his bow. Last time he’d missed the mark. Not this time.

\+ + +

Kirkwall was burning. The siege was begun.

They fought their way through smoke and rubble. Sebastian’s eyes stung, but Qunari made for big targets. In Lowtown, they found Merrill with a basket on her arm.

“I was only doing my shopping—”

Hawke grabbed the elf by the elbow and dragged her along with them. There was only one place the Arishok was going and they were already slowed down by the destruction in his wake.

They climbed the last steps to Hightown’s lower market, where the air was clearer and the sounds of fighting far below them. Halfway across the square, Hawke stopped. They’d run straight into a Qunari patrol.

Elemental forces tore through gray flesh, steel broke bones under Aveline’s might, and Sebastian’s arrows found mark after mark. The urgency and panic fell away. They did this sort of thing all the time. They knew each other’s steps, and fought side by side like dancers in a waltz.

The square was nearly clear when Sebastian saw it. Hawke stood in its path, halfway between Sebastian and the beast. A Serabaas. And she hadn’t seen it yet. She was catching her breath after dispatching the Sten leading the patrol.

Sebastian had learned not to fear Hawke’s magic, and now saw a certain beauty in it. Blood magic disgusted him, but after the last few years fighting it and killing the maleficarum wielding it, it was no longer the insurmountable evil straight out of the Chant. But the strange magic of the Qunari... _that_ still sent his pulse into a panic. And now it was coming straight for Hawke.

Steadying his breathing the way his grandfather taught him, he sighted an arrow and aimed over Hawke’s shoulder. He let fly and exhaled. The wind of his arrow rustled through Hawke’s hair and for a split second he imagined it was his caress on her cheek that drew a sigh from her lips.

His arrow missed the eye-slit he aimed for and instead struck the Serabaas in the shoulder with enough force to send it back a half-step. And no more. Sebastian filled his lungs to scream a warning to Hawke, who was already turning to see the path of the arrow. Not fast enough. A wall of force erupted from the Serabaas, throwing Hawke to the ground and a split-second later slammed into Sebastian like a slab of stone.

He hit the ground and breath exploded from his lungs, his vision black as he slid a good three meters across the flagstones. Head swimming, he struggled upright, tried to stand but his body wouldn’t— _couldn’t_ —obey. Through blurred, double vision, he saw the creature standing over Hawke. She was trying to rise too, but the arm she tried to put her weight on kept falling out from under her. The creature’s hands erupted with piercing white light that burned Sebastian’s eyes. It raised its hands over Hawke as it summoned its power.

Hawke was going to die and Sebastian was helpless to save her—

A sword grew from the Serabaas’s chest. Its light snuffed out. Blood spurting, it fell to the ground with a strangled hiss. A blond, armoured woman stood over Hawke, but Sebastian was no less afraid. Knight-Commander Meredith. He’d only ever seen her from afar. Heard Elthina speak of her, the Sisters whisper, the Templars’ abrupt changes of conversation. The rumours. This woman could make Hawke disappear and no one would be able to argue.

Sebastian managed to get his feet under him and staggered toward them. Hawke was dusting herself off. Meredith was speaking, but her eyes roved across the square for more Qunari to kill. Aveline had already recovered, was approaching the pair fast. She might be Guard Captain, but she was still Hawke’s friend. Which loyalty came first?

Sebastian would argue in Hawke’s defense—the Knight-Commander _had_ to listen to a Brother of the faith, didn’t she? Failing that, he could place Hawke under Starkhaven’s protection. Yes, that would do. He was still a Prince—it had to count for something.

Only...none of it was necessary.

“...always happy to help in a crisis,” Hawke was saying.

“Good. I will meet you by the Keep.” Meredith strode off without another word.

Hawke turned to her friends, eyebrows raised and with a ‘well that went better than expected’ grin. “Meredith says she’ll ‘overlook’ my use of magic ‘for now.’” She said it with exaggerated air quotes. “Isn’t that nice of her?”

“Hawke,” Aveline said with a warning growl.

\+ + +

Hawke rolled aside as the Arishok stabbed the ground where she lay a moment before.

She was already up on her feet and faced the Arishok with determination blazing in her snarl. As she drew chill from the ancient stones, misty frost gathered in her hands, dropping the temperature in the room by several degrees. It was all concentrated around the Arishok and then, as though it hit a breaking point, a _crack_ rent the air and the Arishok was encased in ice.

It bought Hawke time to half-stagger, half-run to the opposite side of the room. She ripped the cork off of a fresh health potion and swigged it back, then tossed the empty bottle aside. It gave a fresh glow to her cheeks and sped up her body’s healing to an unnatural rate—but at a steep cost. She’d crash eventually and no amount of potions or magical healing would fix her.

Sebastian pressed his lips together in fury, glaring at the pirate who stood near him on the steps leading up to the Viscount’s empty throne. The only reason Hawke was fighting a warrior three times her size was because she refused to hand Isabela over.

When the pirate returned with the ancient relic, Hawke had practically thrown it at the Arishok. He’d demanded Isabela too, and Sebastian was ready to say _yes, take her, she’s not worth the trouble_. Instead, Hawke folded her arms across her chest, her chin lifted in defiance. The same defiance that burned in her since Fenris left and a blood mage stole her mother away.

“Take your book, but Isabela is one of mine. You can’t have her.”

Beneath his anger, shame prickled at Sebastian. Hawke was protecting her friend. It was the right thing to do. But if she’d handed Isabela over, she wouldn’t be fighting for her life.

While Hawke battled on, Isabela wrung her hands with such intensity that her nails were beginning to draw blood. Not for the first time, he wondered at the depth of their relationship. And jealousy joined the war of emotions he battled against.

As the Arishok began to thaw, Hawke rubbed a static charge between her fingers and frowned. Her hand lingered over a blue vial on her belt, then, decision made, she popped the cork and shot it back. She cringed, lips pulled back over her teeth. When she rubbed her fingers together again, the electricity jumped in arcs.

The Arishok shook off the lingering stiffness from the frost and glared at Hawke. With a roar of indignant fury, he charged her again.

Hawke was ready. She drew her arms wide, summoning lightning that crackled across her body. The struggle was plain to see on her face as she channeled the wild energy down into her hands, then with a final grunt of exertion, she threw it straight at the Arishok’s chest. He flew back through the air and landed in a smoking heap at the foot of the steps.

Sebastian turned his nose away from the smell of charred flesh.

One sound broke the silence in the still hall. Hawke’s sigh drew Sebastian back to her. There was only a glimpse of her exhaustion before her shoulders straightened, her grip on her staff tightened. She was strong again, untouchable again. An indomitable warrior again. She turned a fearsome blue gaze on the watching Qunari.

As one, they filed silently from the chamber. Not one spared a glance for their fallen leader. No words spoken for his spirit. It wouldn’t be right to ask Andraste’s mercy, and so Sebastian held his tongue. The Qunari had their ways, however strange they might be.

The rest seemed to pass in a blur. He, Aveline, and Isabela rushed to Hawke’s side and she grinned at them, despite the fatigue dragging at her. The nobles held captive in the Keep all cheered, and then Meredith was there and she was speaking, but Sebastian barely heard. His eyes never left Hawke. Then her smile dropped, surprise blooming across her face.

 _Champion, Champion_ , the whisper flew around the room.

Hawke recovered quickly and bowed to Meredith, taking it in stride. Her smile was back. She was pleased and trying to mask it. She’d saved Kirkwall, and now she was its sole guardian.

Could she save Starkhaven, too? He might not mind leaving if it meant she’d come with him. It wasn’t only his vows that kept him here.

The thought startled him. What else was there? It couldn’t be… _love?_

He’d been so blind to it—willfully ignored it—but the signs were there: longing to be near her whenever they were apart, the lightening of his spirit every time she laughed—and the undeniable protectiveness that reared like a lion when danger crossed her path.

She was...everything to him.

Maker help him, _he loved her_.

His head swam and he stuck out a hand to steady himself against the wall. He’d hoped his feelings were an echo of the past, no more than the memory of the flesh. Something he could master and set aside.

Instead, it was the final agony in a terrible year. His vows hadn’t changed and Charlie had locked away her heart.


End file.
